Pitchfork

The first time I saw Califone was in 1998, when they opened for Modest Mouse at San Francisco's Great American Music Hall. Their debut EP was out on Flydaddy, and I was confused then about what exactly separated this band from Red Red Meat, whose music I had just started getting into the year prior. I lived only a block and a half away from the venue, on the nicer edge of the then-grimy Tenderloin district, and seeing Califone in a beautiful old theater that was surrounded on all sides by dive bars, liquor stores, and porn shops, well, it just made sense. They were a dank, hermetic sort of band, taping together weathered scraps of music with clumps of used duct tape.

That was almost ten years ago. Caifone still know how to convey a sense of gloom, and their records get better almost every time out. But they've become more versatile, to the point where they can bust out a massive, jam-heavy version of a tune, complete with a sizeable horn section, while playing outside in broad daylight on a beautiful day. Their set at this year's Pitchfork Music Festival, after seeing them so many times in dark bars, was a crazy surprise. (Thanks again to Optimus for all their help.)

[original track from Roots & Crowns; out now on Thrill Jockey]